"Me," replied the sepulchral, hollow voice of Old Death.
"Ah! the plot thickens," said Tom; and, opening the door, he gave admittance to Mr. Benjamin Bones.
"It's all a mistake, Tom—it's the wrong house!" exclaimed Old Death. "You don't know how annoyed I am—you don't indeed!"
"Well—I confess I do not," said the highwayman coolly; "and it will take you a long time to persuade me that you are speaking the truth. If it was the wrong house, why didn't these people of yours tell me so when I first questioned them?"
"Because I saw you would not believe me," cried Jacob hastily.
"And I was so flurried by them barkers," added Toby, pointing to the pistols.
"I'm not such a fool as you take me to be," observed Tom Rain. "Without being able to fathom your intentions, I can smell treachery as easy as I could gunpowder. How did you find out that I lived here? You must have had me dogged and watched, Old Death. And perhaps the very job you sent me after to-night, was a mere subterfuge to get me out of the way? Fortunately I did not wait for the yellow chaise, because I picked up something better the moment I reached Blackheath; and I thought I had done quite enough for one evening's work—so I returned without delay. Lucky it was that I did so. But am I to have an explanation of this affair?—or do you mean us to break with each other for good and all?"
"What can I say—what can I do to prove to you that this is all a mistake?" cried Old Death, sadly perplexed between the fear of complete detection and the dread of losing the valuable services of the highwayman.
"I will tell you," answered Tom, after a few moments' consideration. "Let these two followers of yours go their ways—and you and me will have a little discourse in private."
A sudden misgiving—a horrible suspicion flashed to the mind of Old Death. Could Rainford mean to murder him?